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The Cottage Of The Crone Witch
Hia girls and boys. I am just PRE-SCARING for my OLYMPIC SCREAM NEXT SHRIEK heh-heh. We have a GRUESOME-GAME OF HACK AND FIELD! The FEAR LEADERS will all be there, and our GHOULFRIENDS will be watching us all from the BLEEDCHERS aha-ha-ha-ha-ha! But while I'm doing these running on my DEADMILL here, please enjoy this REPULSIVE-PIECE entitled... On a sunny day in the July of 1923, a boy kicked a can up a sidewalk and it landed in front of a small cottage in a neighborhood up, in northern-England. The boy ran to his can and looked over at the old, white cottage. The cottage was dark inside, but there was a lit-candle in each window. The boy looked away and continued kicking his can down the neighborhood, singing: The Muffin Man. By nightfall, the small cottage was still dark inside the windows, and from within, an old lady's voice chanted: "by thee light of thy candles and thy light of thee evening moon, may my spirit also shine on with light and be fed by thy spoon." The same boy was on the other side of the fence and scurried closer to one of the candle-lit windows. Peeking in the window, there was an old woman laying on a cot in the living room. She caught a glimpse of the child and spoke to him, "ah, good evening sonny, come in I insist, come in". The boy shuddered with surprise and entered the cottage. More candles were lit in the mini hall and in the living-room, where the boy approached the elderly lady. The flesh of the woman was yellow and veiny, and she was a crone. The crone's hair was stark-white and she was dressed in a blue dress. The boy gazed into her green-glowing eyes and she stroked his hair with her dead-fingernails that were way too long and black. "Such a good boy you look like my child. I am a long dead witch sonny, and get very lonely especially at these hours of the night" she explained to him. The crone witch revealed no teeth, only black, slime-oozing-gums and as her eyes shined-green twinkling in the candle-light, her flesh of yellow began to peel and decay, slowly revealing her skull. The boy gasped in terror, as the veiny-flesh and glowing-eyes of the ghostly-zombie of the crone witch dissolved, and he stared down at her ghostly-skeleton. He screamed, running. The ghostly-zombie of the crone witch that was also a skeleton with stark-white hair, chased the boy into the hallway and out the door. As the boy stopped running, he stood in the yard, watching the ghostly-zombie and hearing it cackle eerily at him. The ghostly-skeleton of the crone witch gestured the boy to come to her with her rotting-boney-finger, then disappeared, fading-out. That boy definitely kne WITCH WAY TO GO when running out of that cottage. That ghostly-zombie was both sweet and ROTTEN literally hee-hee-hee! Our SCREAM is going for THE MOLD-MEDAL kiddies heh-heh!